Espinoza's Anatomy
by shootingstarx7
Summary: Shortly after discovering that Derek is still married to Addison, Meredith also discovered that she was pregnant. Due to their unsteady relationship at the time, the couple made the decision to put the baby up for adoption. Seventeen years later, Cas Espinoza, a figure skater and Physics genius, competes in the Olympic Games in Seattle, and discovers the truth about her adoption.
1. Nobody Knows Me At All

Hi, all.  
Thank you in advance for your interest in my newest fanfic!

I'm not sure how this one came about: but I'm guessing it heavily has to do with a winter spent binge watching the entirety of Grey's Anatomy and the Winter Olympics.

Just a quick disclaimer: I know next to nothing about figure skating or surgery, I'm just an avid fan of the TV series and sport. I took some poetic license with this story: with everything pretty much being canon (to when I started writing this midway through season 14). The main difference in the world of this fanfic, is that Meredith discovered that she was pregnant early on in her residency, and she and Derek had decided to conceal the pregnancy and give the baby up for adoption due to the unsteady nature of their relationship at that time.

I hope you enjoy my take on this series, and please review to tell me what you think!

1\. Nobody Knows Me At All

 _Cassandra Espinoza_

One of the most satisfying sounds is the sound of steel blades scraping the newly smoothened surface of an ice rink. Or at least, that's what I thought to myself as I propelled myself around the ice, freely swiveling and turning with my arms outstretched as if I were Rose on the Titanic.

I'd been looking forward to feeling the rush of cold air and adrenaline for the entire day as I sat through class after class, tirelessly completing lengthy physics equations on paper. Finally, it was time for me to complete these equations in real life. Swiveling slightly backwards, I paused for a moment, before jamming my toe-pick into the ice and launching myself into a jump.  
For a moment, I spun in mid-air, feeling the resistance crushing my body as I completed two full turns of a double axel and landed on my right foot. Seeing my coach in my peripheral vision, I skated to him, shredding into an abrupt stop before I hit the boards.

Grady applauded me, slowly, and almost sarcastically. I humorously mimed a bow in response. "Only slightly under-rotated," He quipped sardonically and I rolled my eyes.

"It was my first one," I muttered, matching his tone. "You can't rush perfection," A sly smile crept across my face as I launched myself back on to the ice, gaining speed as I glided backward across the empty ice. Though I wasn't looking, I assumed that Grady was scoffing to himself at that response.

Grady and I got along well like that, which was part of the reason why he'd gotten me so far as my coach. He'd moved here to Portland, Oregon after clinching the gold medal in the men's singles event of the Olympics eight years ago, and decided to take me on as his student when I was only nine years old. I'd been competing internationally as a figure skater ever since.

Skating to the music in my head, I went through my routine: launching myself into a triple lutz, double toe combination. Though I bobbled on the second jump and nearly fell, I continued on into my routine's step sequence.

I've always thought of my life as a marriage of my two true loves: physics and skating. When I was little, I became known as a physics prodigy: and since I also happened to have boundless energy, my parents enrolled me in skating classes in order to tire me out. Instead, they created a monster: my love of physics fueled my love of skating, and gave me an outlet for it. Years later, I now found myself weeks away from my first Olympic Games.

I should have known that I needed to pick up more speed before launching into my next jump, the triple flip, as I thought of my genius in physics while skating. After falling flat on my ass and tumbling across the ice for a few moments, I chuckled through my bared teeth, pulling myself to my feet despite the pain and new bruises that I was sure to find tomorrow morning.

"Lazy," Grady shouted as I continued on, I waved my hand dismissively at him. "Get out of your head," He suggested, and since he was shouting from across the ice, it sounded like an order.

Launching myself into the air again, I landed in a spin.

As I spun faster and faster, and sunk into a sit spin, the world fell away. Physics made the world make logical sense to me; but it was only while skating that the world made emotional sense in the context of my strange life.

I've thought about this a lot over the past year, as I prepared to return to Seattle, where I was born, to compete in the Winter Olympics that will be hosted there in a few weeks time.

Rising from my spin, and nearly panting as I skated to Grady, I thought about my parents who adopted me at birth a decade after they emigrated from Spain to the Pacific Northwest to advance their careers as college professors and academic researchers. It was always obvious to me that I wasn't genetically an Espinoza; but it was always clear that I was loved and treasured. My parents were consistently my cheering section: from when I completed high school at fifteen, to now, at seventeen as I trained for the Olympic games while halfway through studying for a degree in Physics.

Though I had everything I ever could ask for in my childhood, there still seemed to be something missing. This pervasive feeling only grew, the closer I got to the games in Seattle. The part of me that I actively tried to silence wondered who my birth parents were, and if they even had a second thought about the Olympic chaos that was surely going on around them, too.

When I reached my coach, he already had his arm extended, offering me a bottle of water. Wordlessly, I accepted it, gulping down about half of the liquid inside.

My parents didn't know much about the couple that they had adopted me from, except that they were unmarried surgeons at the hospital where I was born. My birth parents had wanted it this way, so I'd been told, but I'd never known why. I guessed they wanted to remain anonymous because giving up a baby was not an easy thing to do-but maybe that was wishful thinking. The only thing left from the people who had supplied me with my genetic codes was my middle name: Grace, given as a tribute to Seattle Grace Hospital, where I'd entered the world.

I'd only realized I was zoning out when Grady waved his hand in front of my face. I blinked, and registered his look of concern. "Are you okay, Cas?" He asked me in a soft voice.

I nodded, biting my lip and watched as Grady shifted back into business mode. I followed suit. "Music please, " I requested, tossing my water bottle back at him and gliding back onto the ice.

Since I refused to skate to the Carmen Suite like everyone else and their mother, I chose to skate to a more contemporary selection for my short program: the main theme from the Incredibles Movie. Despite the fact that I'd originally suggested this music to Grady as a joke and had gotten stuck with it, I felt like a legitimate superhero as I jumped and spun through my entire routine with minimal error this time.

Grady was pleased. "She's back," He announced, grinning.

I smiled, catching my breath, and stared down at my right knee that had just recovered from its recent surgery to repair the damage it had taken from being landed on all of these years. This was my first full practice since, and so far, my knee had not felt this strong in a long time.

I kicked myself mentally as my mind shifted back to my birth parents. Did they like to cut knees open? What _did_ they cut open for a living?

I shook my head as if to physically shake this thought. Grady gave me my critiques as I downed the rest of my bottle of water. For the rest of the three hour practice, I was on autopilot. As I skated, I imagined what it would be like to skate these numbers in the Olympics… or even more terrifying, to meet my birth parents.

With the Olympics only a week away, we'd flown into Seattle to prepare. With a backpack full of thick physics books and two heavy duffel bags of clothing, equipment and supplies, I crossed the threshold of my apartment in the Olympic village. My heart raced as I listened closely to see if anyone else had arrived. I'd learned only recently that I would be sharing this space with a few of the closest friends that I had made in this sport who would also be representing the United States at this Olympics.

As I turned the corner into the bedroom that had been assigned to me, I was startled to have been enveloped into a tight embrace by my fiercest competitor and closest long distance friend: Hannah Drake. Hannah was small and wiry, but her hold on me almost took me to the floor. When she finally moved away, I could read the excitement in her electric green eyes. She pushed her blonde hair behind her ear and sat down on the bed on the opposite side of the room. "Surprise," She announce cheerily, "We're roommates,"

I dropped my bags on the floor at the end of the other bed, which I assumed was mine and smiled. "I'm not all that surprised," I said, chuckling, as I quickly pulled my Jet black, straight hair into a makeshift ponytail. It was public information that Hannah and I were perhaps the most inseparable competitors in the sport, always requesting to room together whenever we traveled for competitions. Upon glancing into the mirror on the bedroom wall, I noticed that my eyes took on an unnatural hue of blue against the Team USA jacket that had been given to me only hours before.

Hannah flung herself backward, spreading out across her bed with her arms and legs draping off the sides. "Can you believe that we're really _here?"_

She meant the Olympics. But my mind was in disbelief for other reasons.

 _Meredith Grey_

It's the small moments in life that make the most impact. Making a wrong cut can end someone's life in a second. A decision in a split second can transform the lives of many different people for the rest of their lives, and might even transform your own life as well.

The kitchen was buzzing with activity on this Monday morning. As Zola, Bailey and Ellis wolfed down their waffles at record speed, Maggie read the newspaper. Amelia, who was decidedly not a morning person like the rest of us, hastily shoveled coffee into a coffee filter and shoved it into the machine. We locked eyes, as if I was silently thanking her for providing the fuel that would probably be the reason that I got through this morning.

Maggie spoke, thinking out loud, her eyes still fixed on the newspaper. "Did you know that one of the Olympic figure skaters was born at Seattle Grace?" She sighed in awe, setting the paper down on the table in front of her and looking up from it at us. I looked away as quickly as I could without drawing suspicion, pretending to assure that my children's lunches were adequately packed. "She was born during first year of residency, Mer. Isn't that _weird?_ You could have met the mom, or something, and not even realized it."

Both Maggie and Amelia were now watching my reaction. I shrugged. "That was a long time ago." I replied in a jagged tone, checking the lunch boxes for a third time.

I could feel Amelia's skepticism radiating off of her. "Can I see that?" She asked Maggie, and Maggie forfeited the paper. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Amelia studied the paper closely. I was also aware that Maggie was studying me. I wondered if she somehow found out the truth… and had planned this whole interaction.

Amelia broke out into an uncomfortable laughter. "She kind of looks like…" She stopped herself, eyes widening as she looked to me. I pretended I didn't notice as I messily poured coffee into my thermos and corralled the kids into the car. I knew what she was going to say. The Olympic Figure Skater from Portland who would be returning to Seattle looked like _Derek._ It was also very clear that she'd picked up on the fact that I did not want to discuss the various ways in which she was absolutely right.

After we had dropped off the kids at their respective schools, the car became notably silent and tense. It was as if we all knew that there was something that we should be discussing that we were not. As we waited for Alex and Jo to emerge from their house, the Elephant in the Room grew larger and larger.

Jo climbed into middle of the back seat, next to Maggie, followed by Alex. Immediately after taking his seat, Alex scoffed. " _Who died?"_ He asked, in his usual _Alex_ way that I'd grown to appreciate over the years.

When no one responded, Jo and Alex locked eyes.

"Are we ready?" I asked impatiently, realizing that I was coming off as annoyed to the passengers of my car.

"What's up your ass?" Alex asked, getting straight to the point.

"Nothing," I snapped back at him in an icy tone, "I've got a packed day and would really just like to get going if you don't mind."

I watched through the rearview mirror as Alex froze, stunned at my reaction. Sighing, I pulled away from the curb and drove the silent vehicle to the hospital.

Immediately after arriving at Grey Sloan Memorial Hospital, I rushed to the nearest vacant supply closet on the surgical floor, locked the door, and whipped my phone out of my pocket. _Come on,_ I thought, heart pounding, _Pick up…_ Four agonizing dial tones later, I was greeted with an irritated groan from the other side of the world.

" _This better be important"_ Cristina moaned into the phone, irritated. It sounded like I'd woken her from the first sleep she'd had in weeks. It took me a second to respond. "Mer?" She asked, now slightly panicked, "Are you still there?" Her tone had softened significantly.

"…Yeah," I responded unsteady. The truth was, I hadn't really thought of how I would explain this to Cristina. I didn't know what to say. Despite how Cristina had been the only person other than Derek who knew about the baby, after the choice had been made, it was as if the situation had never happened in the first place. It was as if Cristina and I had an unspoken rule to never speak of this again.

A made-up rule that I felt as though I was now breaking.

My best friend sounded more awake now. "Do you just need me to be here with you?" She asked.

I hardly noticed that a single tear was falling down my face. Somewhat ashamed, I swatted it away. "I think I found my daughter…"

A pointed silence fell over the other line. "Like… your… _first_ … daughter?"

I swallowed, and updated her on the events of this morning.

"I'm coming," Cristina announced.

"You can't," I decided, "You have research and your department to run. I'll be fine,"

She didn't buy it. "Just let me do this, Mer," She said, "Let me be here for you this time."


	2. Caught in the Middle

_Hi, everyone.  
Thank you infinitely for your response to the first chapter of this fanfic. It's much appreciated. I also feel like I should point out how I'm stealing yet another page from the Greys Anatomy book and naming each chapter after an applicable song. The first one was "Nobody Knows Me At All" by the Weepies, and this chapter's song is Caught in the Middle by Paramore._

I hope you will continue to give me feedback about this fanfic while keeping in mind that I'm writing this completely for fun. What do you think will happen next? Let me know what you think!

2\. Caught In The Middle

 _Cas Espinoza_

One thing that they never tell you before you become an Olympian is how often you are required to talk to the press. Some athletes love the attention: all of the media interviews, the documentaries about your life, becoming a household name seemingly overnight…

I don't anticipate ever becoming one of those athletes.

Contrary to popular belief, I was mostly in this for the physics, and the thrilling experience of flying around the ice. Going to the Olympics was what I considered to be an honorable, yet surprising culmination of my hard work and passion for watching the lengthy equations and formulas come to life.

My insides were squirming as I sat down on the national news studio's couch, which, for the record, looked a lot more comfortable than it actually was. I should have been used to the attention by now. I'd been doing interviews for figure skating or for being a "physics prodigy" for practically my entire life. I guess that's another thing they don't tell you: If you suck at putting yourself out there, it might never get easier for you.

I felt as though I was about to crawl out of my own skin as my interviewer, the famous morning talk show host, Rita Marcus, took her seat with cue cards in hand. We shook hands, and made small talk for a few minutes before the lights around us dimmed and the studio audience became silent in anticipation. A producer emerged from behind a camera and announced that we were on in "5... 4...3…" before miming two and one with his hands.

And then it begun. "Good morning, U.S.A," Rita said, with her trademark smile, "Today I am reporting from the Winter Olympic Games in Seattle Washington." She then turned toward me, indicating my presence to the implied viewers from around the nation. "I am joined by Team USA Singles Figure Skater, Cas Espinoza. Cas, what is it like to be representing your country in these Games that are hosted at home?"

I smiled, taking a moment to formulate a response. I could feel my face turning beet red as Rita waited for my reply. "It's... _insane,"_ I answered, immediately regretting it. "Representing my country is a huge honor," I backpedaled, remembering the training that I'd had for such interviews. "And to do it at home…" I chuckled awkwardly into my hand, "I guess it's still sinking in."

Rita laughed along with me to carry the conversation along. Idly, I wondered if any of the other Olympic athletes she'd interviewed were as awkward as I was. "You seem to be nervous," She observed. I bit my lip, accidentally validating her words. "Did you expect to be here in Seattle?"

I inhaled sharply. "I train very hard for my sport," I stated, "But, I don't think I _expected_ to be at the Olympics. There are many talented skaters out there. I guess this was my year." As I finished my answer, I was stunned by my own diplomacy. Perhaps I wasn't too bad at this after all.

I had a feeling about what Rita was going to ask next. Like most interviewers, Rita would probably inquire about how it felt to come in second at this year's U.S. nationals to my best friend. I'd had to speak publicly about losing to Hannah so many times that it hardly even stung any more. Still, I braced myself: preparing to give my stock answer; an explanation of being friends off the ice but not always on it.

However, much to my demise, Rita seemed to have other plans.

"It must be _odd_ to be back in Seattle," She mused, and my stomach dropped. The way she said _back in Seattle_ made me think that she had done her research on my personal life. "Given that you were born here,"

 _Shit._

My heart began to race. I stared at Rita like an actual deer in the headlights. "Oh, wow. How did you find _that_ out?" My voice broke as I tried to play my fear off as a joke.

Even Rita, a seasoned interviewer, seemed thrown off by my surprised reaction, but deflected my question anyway. "I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable," She explained, "But I find it interesting how your story has seemingly come full circle. Did you always know that you were adopted?" In my gut I'd known that Rita was not going to give up on this, but I was still caught off guard.

I took a second to respond. "Uh...Yes," I began unsteadily, "I've always known that I was adopted. It's never been a huge deal, to be honest. My parents have always supported me in everything I do just like they would if they were biologically related to me." Realizing that I was beginning to slump over in my seat, I abruptly straightened my posture as a knee jerk reaction. "They gave up a lot for me to be here,"

Rita brought her hand to her chest empathically, and smiled. "That is so wonderful to hear," I nodded, smiling back at her, and pulling my hair behind my ear as a nervous tic. Something about her response struck me as insincere.

I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Have you met your biological parents?" Aaaaand there it was.

The inquiry felt like a sock in the gut. How could I have been so unprepared? Never in my wildest imagination did I even consider that _this_ would become a hot topic of conversation despite how, I was now realizing, I probably should have anticipated this.

I wondered if my face could become redder than it already was. "No, I haven't. I'm not actually sure how I would go about that. It never really came up on either end, so…" I trailed off, not sure where to go with that. What else should I say about something so personal that I've barely even had time to figure out myself?

"That's very interesting," Rita replied quietly, resting her chin in her hand inquisitively. "It's likely, with the games being in Seattle, that your birth parents might be watching. Is there anything that you would say to them if given the chance?"

I froze. The truth was, I hadn't thought of that. I felt like I was going to vomit, despite how hard I was working to retain my composure. "Uh…" I said lamely, fumbling anxiously for a response. After a moment, I finally spluttered: "Thanks...for the...genes?

 _Meredith Grey_

An object in motion will stay in motion, until acted upon by another force.

If you happen to be so unlucky to be in a car crash, the car will stop, but you will keep moving. That is why they invented airbags. To create resistance, and to save you from flying headfirst through the windshield.

There wasn't much I remembered from the high school physics course I took an eternity ago, but somehow the simple laws were all becoming relevant again.

As Cristina and I inhaled the now dwindling bottle of tequila as if it were water, I couldn't shake the flashbacks of the subject that my supposed daughter centered her life around. It was as if I was in a head-on collision. I wondered where the airbags were in this situation.

"I think I'm ready," I announced, my speech slightly slurred. We were in a hotel room, far away from where anyone could find us. I'd enlisted a skeptical Alex to watch my kids while Cristina and I watched newscasts of the teenager who I suspected to have given birth to in national newscasts that we had DVR-ed out of curiosity.

Cristina, without a word, lifted the remote and pressed play. We leaned back on the large bed and tried to relax.

I wasn't one for morning news. Between surgery, and motherhood, and the need for sleep once and a while, I'd only watched Good Morning U.S.A a handful of times. With that said, it was still an otherworldly experience to see the child we had presumably given up for adoption seated on the iconic stage in a Team USA jacket.

I took another shot, wincing as it went down.

Cas Espinoza appeared nervous, as if she hadn't done an interview at this scale before. I figured that this wasn't true, however. I'd been following her various accolades throughout practically her entire life. Though it wasn't a _given_ for anyone to make it to the Olympics, for someone like Cas, it was never too far fetched of a prediction.

On the screen, Cas scratched the skin next to her thumbnail as Rita Marcus spoke, and I idly wondered if she even realized she was even doing it. This happened to be a bad habit of mine, too.

"She looks like a clone of Derek," Cristina observed in a monotone voice, attempting to cover the sadness in her tone with her dark and twisty sarcasm that I'd come to appreciate and identify with over the years.

I ignored her observation, still watching the interview in awe. Cas stated that she was 'honored' to be representing her country at home. She'd said it was _insane,_ causing Cristina burst into a brief bout of laughter.

"It must be odd for you to be back in Seattle," Rita mused, sinking her hooks into Cas for the story like a predator stalking its prey. I watched as Cas froze up, stunned that Rita had gone there. I tensed up as well, though my face and Cristina's remained as still as stone. Cristina squeezed my arm as if we were heading toward the first drop of a large rollercoaster. "Given that you were born here," Rita clarified.

My best friend and I exchanged a stunned glance.

Cas tried to play it off, her stress seeping through noticeably. "Oh, wow. How did you find _that_ out?" Her voice broke. It was as though no one had asked her that question ever before in her life.

This very fact seemed to fuel Rita Marcus. "I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable," She continued, feigning empathy.

I scoffed in response, rolling my eyes. "Bull _shit,_ " Cristina muttered under her breath.

"I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable," Rita continued on. Cas attempted to conceal her nerves, squirming slightly, but still noticeably in her seat. "But I find it interesting how your story has seemingly come full circle. Did you always know that you were adopted?"

My stomach dropped as an aggressive wave of nausea washed over me. I gagged for a moment, literally choking on my surprise. I imagined that Cas probably felt the same way as she explained that she'd always been aware that she was adopted, had a supportive family, and that the origin of her genetics had been somewhat of a non-issue.

Until now, I guessed.

Rita kept on hammering away. "Have you met your biological parents?" She asked Cas, and from the way it appeared, she might as well have punched the poor girl in the face.

Cas frantically worked to choose her words. "No, I haven't. I'm not actually sure how I would go about that. It never really came up on either end, so…" She trailed off, clearly at a loss of what to say.

Cristina and I were speechless. I had wondered how to 'go about' this situation for a long time, as well.

"That's very interesting," Rita replied, her voice was sugary sweet as she leaned on her hand. "It's likely, with the games being in Seattle, that your birth parents might be watching. Is there anything that you would say to them if given the chance?"

"This lady is a _shark,"_ Cristina blurted out, her eyes wide and still glued to the screen. I grabbed the trash basket that was located next to the bed in case I should feel the urge to vomit.

Cas, in a shaking voice, responded, "Uh… thank you … for the genes?"


	3. Dark Blue

**Hi everyone, thank you, as always for reading! Please be sure to leave me a review to comment, give feedback or to speculate where you think this is going. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed for the feedback so far!**

Quick reminder: I know ziltch about any of the technical stuff I'm writing about in this chapter… including (but not limited to): figure skating, surgery, adoption, etc. Please know that I took some poetic license with this fan fic, and that I write it for fun.

 **I hope you enjoy this new chapter ! :)**

 _Cas Espinoza_

"It wasn't _that_ bad," Hannah attempted to assure me, as she pulled on the laces of her skates. I smirked at her, scoffing audibly from where I sat on the bench beside her, but I wasn't sure if she saw. Becoming uncomfortable with the silence as we tightened our skates, Hannah finally conceded. "Okay," She said, exhaling. "It _was_ pretty embarrassing,"

I inhaled sharply, nodding and bracing myself to keep from flinching at the renewed feeling of humiliation. Just thinking about that interview with Good Morning U.S.A. made me sweat.

Hannah shrugged. "It could have been _worse_ ," She offered compassionately, but with pure sarcasm plastered over her face as she walked over to the entrance of the rink and skated away.

 _Gee, thanks, Han._

I rolled my eyes, now certain that if this was a TV movie, that interview would probably be the my-life-is-over plot twist that every teenage girl seems to have in order to sufficiently grace the small screen. A rush of pure panic pulsed through my system as I imagined my faceless birth parents watching the disastrous conversation with Rita Marcus. I hadn't thought of _that_ form of embarrassment yet. I shuddered as I stepped onto the ice, and definitely not because of the cold.

Almost immediately, however, I was thankfully overwhelmed by the magnitude of a different realization. Today was the first official Team USA practice of the Seattle Winter Olympics. A part of me could not believe I was here, as I greeted my teammates and skaters from other disciplines of the sport: the men's singles figure skaters, pairs skaters, and ice dancers. I spotted Grady on the opposite side of the rink, beaming wildly.

I headed toward him, returning his smile. "Hey kid," He greeted, and then raised his hands in the air, indicating our surroundings. " _You made it_ ," He said, tears faintly welling up in his eyes. In that moment, I realized that this was Grady's Olympics just as much as it was mine. He was largely the reason why I was here.

We embraced over the partition that separated the ice from the stands. "Just uh…" He said in a comedic tone as we pulled away from each other, "Stay away from the shark tank, okay?"

I immediately blushed a deep red. I knew that by _shark tank_ he meant national talk shows. Would I ever live this down?

Trying to play it off as no big deal, I chuckled uneasily in response as I glided back onto the ice, mentally going through my free skate program that was set to a remixed version of 'No Roots' by Alice Merton. I'd excitedly selected this jam the second the judging panel allowed skating to lyrics.

I glided seamlessly along the ice, making the difficult moves, jumps, and steps look easy. And… for a few moments, nothing else mattered.

Being at the Olympics hadn't fully set in yet, and this was probably for the better. It was less pressure on my shoulders if I retained the ability to pretend that this was any old skating competition. I wondered if I would even be able to perform to my usual ability if I'd become acutely aware that I was living my life's dream, especially because the culmination of all of my hard work was taking place in Seattle, where my biological parents supposedly existed.

Letting my muscle memory take over, I completed a string of jumps. I picked up speed, heading into a difficult triple jump combination… and over rotated by accident, sending me plummeting onto the ice directly onto my knee that had just recently been surgically repaired. Muttering an expletive under my breath, and wiping the snow from my athletic leggings, I rose back to my feet gracefully and continued my routine to its completion.

Grady, however, was not pleased. Shaking his head as I skated to him, I noticed a prominent gleam of worry stretching across his face. "I'm fine," I assured him abruptly, through my teeth. I _was_ fine. There was a twinge of pain in my knee, but that was normal, right? I'd just gotten surgery and fallen directly onto the joint that they'd just sawed open and sewed up. _Of course_ I'd be in a bit of pain right now.

Smiling cunningly, Grady pulled out his cellphone. "You're at the Olympics, Cas. As a coach, I can't in good faith take your word for it this time."

I rolled my eyes. "I mean… you _could,"_ I answered like the defiant teenager I so yearned to be in spite of my rigorous and disciplined lifestyle.

He shook his head. "No can do," Grady crooned in a sing-songy voice. "Luckily I have a contact for times like these." I couldn't help but notice that he was trying to conceal his pride at being so proactive when it counted.

I groaned audibly. "Grady, I'm _fine_ ," I emphasized, my frustration peeking through my gruff tone.

"We'll see about that," He answered absentmindedly as he placed the phone to his ear.

… … …

It turned out that Seattle Grace Hospital had been renamed over the course of the lifetime that I'd spent outside of its walls. This would be the first time I could recollect spending time within the walls of the building where I was presumably born.

I was trembling as I crossed the threshold. Grady, beside me, noticed immediately. "Nervous?" He asked, glancing down at my knee. I was hardly limping now, which was an improvement from earlier.

I swallowed and nodded. He had no idea what I was going through right now, and I was not about to tell him that each time I locked eyes with a stranger rushing by in medical scrubs with a clipboard in hand, I grew increasingly more nauseous.

 _Any one of these people could have been responsible for my existence…_ I felt my breath clip in my chest and wondered if I was about to have a panic attack.

"Deep breaths," Grady coached in a gentle voice as we rounded the corner into the Pediatric Wing.

Suddenly, I was surrounded by bright colors, stuffed animals and toys. I groaned under my breath, so that only I could bear witness to my own torture. Of all of the places I thought that I would end up during the Olympic Games, this was certainly not one of them.

Grady checked me in at the Nurses' station, which, I assumed was the sort of odd and special treatment you get when you become an olympic athlete. We were subsequently led to a small room tucked in a corner, with an examination table. Knowing the drill, I perched myself onto the exam table, and lifted the leg of my sweatpants, exposing my bruised, scarred and now swollen right knee.

Glancing down at my attire, I wished I'd worn something better than my ratty old sweatpants from my home Skating Club back in Portland. The bottom seams had become frayed, and embroidered on the leg was my embarrassing childhood nickname.

Grady smiled at me from the corner, a comforting gesture. "See?" He asked, "Not so bad,"

I shook my head. "Grady, I don't like being here," I told him frantically, while still trying to keep my composure.

His eyebrows knitted together in confusion. I wanted to explain everything to him. But then, the door opened, and a few official-looking doctors ushered in. My breathing quickened, and I tried not to hyperventilate.

Without looking up from whatever was so important on his clipboard, the Male doctor introduced himself as Dr. Karev, a pediatric surgeon. He was closely trailed by a female Intern, whose name I could not discern because they somehow seemed to be just as nervous as I was. Dr. Karev lifted his eyes to meet mine as he reached out to shake my hand.

I forced a smile in response, and obliged, noticing how he took an extra moment to look at me, with a skeptical expression stretched across his face. When my hand returned to my side, I bit my lip as a way to stop shaking.

Before he could refer back to his chart to review my condition, I cut to the chase. "16 year old, figure skater, 6 months post op for a tear of my patellar tendon…" As I realized he was staring back at me, stunned, I felt my face turn a deep red. "Not my first rodeo," I joked uneasily. "And… I'm allergic to Ibuprofen, so you can imagine how much fun I'm having."

The Intern burst out into laughter, and, noticing her unprofessionalism, covered her mouth to conceal it. Dr. Karev momentarily froze, and I severely regretted my tendency to ramble when nervous.

Finally, the doctor shrugged. As he approached me, he smirked at the name scrawled on the top of my sweatpants. "Okay, let's see what you've got... _Cassie Neutron,_ " If it was possible, I probably would have died right there. Grady guffawed in the corner, as he'd been the one to nickname me after the ever-so-nerdy Jimmy Neutron shortly after we met when I was seven. A few years ago, as a prank, he'd swapped my name on the order forms for my skating club's sweatpants. Of course, not expecting a hospital trip this morning, and desperately needing to do laundry, I'd tossed the pants into my skating bag without a second thought.

Since I didn't have any other projectiles readily available, I reached into my coat pocket, grabbed my packet of tissues and whipped them at Grady as quickly and discreetly as I could.

Dr. Karev was unamused as he studied my knee closely. Over his shoulder, the Intern's eyes widened significantly, though she tried to hide it.

"Can you walk me through what happened today?" Dr. Karev asked, not giving anything away from the tone of his voice.

I tucked my hair behind my ear as he rose from his stool. "Uh… I was going through my routine, and everything was fine," I spoke clearly, but it was clear that I was about to implode internally. "...until I went for my triple lutz, triple toe loop combination, over rotated, landed directly on my knee, and…" I shrugged, " _Here we are_ ,"

"6 months was not a long post op recovery time," Dr. Karev informed me, as if I wasn't already aware, "And your fall definitely seems to have complicated your recovery. You might have re-torn your tendon, slightly. I'm concerned that if you continue to subject your knee to heavy impact, you might need to undergo another operation to correct it.

My stomach dropped. That was not what I wanted to hear. Grady, in the corner, was notably shocked, silent.

"So... " I mused quietly, "What do you recommend?"

He closed his eyes and took a breath, a clear indication that he knew that I would not like what he was about to say. "I… would typically recommend rest," He said, slowly, carefully, as if to not set me off, "To stay off it until it heals."

I cut him off. "But… that's not an option for me," I argued petulantly.

He nodded, acknowledging that he heard me. "As a doctor, my advice is to stay off it in order to reduce the risk that it might tear completely, which might prevent you from skating in the future."

I suddenly felt lightheaded, like I was in a fog. There was a heaviness in the pit of my stomach, as if the weight of the world was anchored there and it could fall apart at a moment's notice. "But… as a _person,"_ I inquired quietly, "Would you risk giving up the Olympics, or the functionality of your knee?"

His eyes widened. It was as if I knew that he might agree with me, despite how he would never say it. In place of what I thought he'd say, he sighed. "That's not my decision to make, ultimately," He said, kneeling down to examine my knee once more. "However, if you continue to put such force on the joint, you might not even be able to walk at full capacity, much less skate. I can't make your decision for you, but I can give you all of the information I have."

I swallowed and nodded. Understood.

It was heartbreaking to hear these words, but I'd already made my decision.

I had worked my entire life to compete in the Olympics, and if my knee would just stay together until the end… well, maybe retiring and pursuing more physics research wouldn't be so bad.

"Thank you for your time and for the information," I told Dr. Karev, summoning all of the courage I had in me. "I acknowledge all of the risks. And I appreciate them," I think he was a bit thrown off by how middle-aged I sounded, as a sixteen year-old. "But I made it to the Olympics, and if I didn't compete, I know I would regret it for the rest of my life."

I expected him to be annoyed with me, for wasting his time. He seemed like a gruff, rough around the edges type of guy. But instead, he stood, and shook my hand once again, smiling a slight, but warm smile.

"It was really nice to meet you," He said, as we shook hands once again, "Congratulations on the Olympics," He added, as the bewildered Intern handed him his clipboard.

I was shocked, but filled with admiration as I thanked him. He took one last long look at me before he left the room. It was as if… as if he thought he knew me.

Had I not been grieving the gravity of the decision I'd just made, I might have freaked out and wondered if he knew my parents. But right now, I didn't care. Once, when I was twelve, I told Hannah I'd saw off an appendage to make it to the Olympics. It had been a joke then, but now, as it flashed across my memory, it was a cruel irony.

I unfolded my sweatpant-leg so that it covered my knee and slid off of the exam table. Grady put his arm around me as we exited the Pediatric ward of the hospital.

There was no way to anticipate what was ensuing in the lobby until we entered the onslaught of news reporters.

It was almost immediately that Grady and I were swallowed into a sea of flashing cameras, and microphones pointed at me. I was barraged with questions. _Cas, what happened to you at practice today? Cas, are your injuries severe? Why are you limping?_

A pushy female reporter barricaded the door. "Cassandra, do you realize that you are in the hospital where you were born? Where your birth parents were rumored to have been employed?" Her cameraman inched closer to me, angling his camera to presumably get the best shot he could of me as I exited the building.

"Y-yeah," I humored her dumbly in the hopes that she might move out of the way and let me get back to the Olympic Village. There was only so long that I could hold myself together. I could feel the tears welling in the back of my eyes.

"What are your injuries? Are they extensive?"

"I'm still competing," I muttered, trying, with every fiber of my being, to not sound as despondent and angry as I wanted to.

"Great," She said, although it wasn't congratulatory toward me. She was probably excited to have gotten me to speak to her. She wasn't done, however. "We received word from an anonymous source that your birth mother, is, in fact, still employed here. Have you run into her."

I shook my head. "Uh no," I responded impatiently. I was fuming now. "Frankly, it's a little disturbing that you have that information," Grady grabbed my arm, as if to warn me to calm down. It was too late. My temper had already been lost. "If you'll excuse me, I just got some bad news, and I need to get by you so that I can process it."

Stunned, the newswoman stepped aside, clearing the way outside into the highly appropriate gray and dreary rainstorm. Once outside, I extended my arms, letting the heavy drops hit my palms and my face. My eyes were shut tight, as if by shutting them, I was effectively shutting off the world.

Of course, this was just a figment of my imagination, I quickly realized as I heard an unfamiliar woman's voice coming from directly in front of me.

"Excuse me," The voice asked, "Are you Cas Espinoza?"

I inhaled sharply, lowered my arms, and opened my eyes.

The woman stood stoically, looking directly into my eyes as she waited for my response. Initially, I'd been as annoyed at her as I was at the rest of the world, but I was taken aback by her for a reason that I couldn't quite pinpoint. She looked _kind of like me,_ in a way that royally freaked me sandy colored hair was swept back into a low ponytail, and her blue eyes were boring into me, intently waiting for a response.

I was suddenly struck with the realization that I looked like a complete idiot, standing outside, drenching myself in the rain. Nevertheless, I nodded to her, shifting my weight awkwardly off of my injured knee. Grady watched me nervously, and picked up the slack of the conversation. Friendly as ever, he extended a hand to the stranger. "I'm Grady Cross, Cas's coach," He clarified.

"Meredith Grey," The woman responded to Grady, before she faced me. "I know this is not impeccable timing for us to meet," She acknowledged with a slight shrug and a hint of a darkly sarcastic grin, before her face grew gravely serious. "Cas, I have reason to believe that I am your biological mother."

… … …

 _Meredith Grey_

Having difficult conversations is a part of my job description. As a surgeon, I have them every single day. I've told patients that their bodies were rejecting their organs. I've told families that their loved ones died on the operating table. Sixteen years ago, I endured many difficult conversations as I disclosed that I was carrying a child that I didn't believe that I could keep.

When I told Derek that I was pregnant, initially, he was speechless. He'd just come out of a ten-hour surgery, resecting a elementary school teacher's brain tumor. I'd found out hours before the surgery had even begun-but I didn't want to weigh him down with the news before he was set to cut a woman's skull open.

Back then, he was still married to Addison. He was living with her. And, in my mind, he had chosen her. I was in the first year of my residency, and was in charge of taking care of my ailing mother. In other words, I was at a complete loss. I thought, from the moment I read the stick that it would be an uphill battle to give this baby a fair shot at the decent upbringing I never had.

According to the blood test, I had been three months along when I discovered I was pregnant.

Derek's first response was pleading. He discreetly, but passionately tried to convince me for weeks that raising this child was not an impossibility, before he finally succumbed to the realization of our circumstances. Despite how we eventually ended up getting married and having more children of our own in the future, at that time, we were constantly at odds with each other. He was my superior, directly supervising my residency, and consequently, so was Addison, his wife. I was broke, strung out, working impossible hours and prone to tequila binges to cope with it all. It was a disaster waiting to happen. Eventually, Derek realized it too.

Cristina accompanied me when I officially signed the adoption papers. I wanted Derek and I to do this separately, so that we wouldn't change our minds at the last moment. It was perhaps the hardest thing that I had ever done.

Over the first few years, I'd wondered what her childhood was like. I had the opportunity to meet the Espinozas, the couple who had adopted our daughter and named her Cassandra, but I refused their offer of an open adoption. It wasn't that I didn't want to have a relationship with Cassandra, or the Espinoza family, it was that I thought that it would be too hard for me to stay away. I _wanted_ to be her mother, but I couldn't be her mother. Not at that time. And I didn't want to interfere, or regret my decision.

However, Cassandra Espinoza, the child whose DNA was half mine, began to make headlines at a young age. She was a physics prodigy, with her IQ accepted into Mensa at five years old, and an internationally ranked competitive figure skater. From afar, I was intensely proud. But, for this reason, I also did not regret our decision. The Espinoza family supported Cassandra in all of her pursuits, and allowed her to thrive, in ways that Derek and I may not have been able to at the time.

Sixteen years later, there she was.

Cristina woke me abruptly this morning, my day off, to alert me to a rumor she had heard that an Olympic Figure Skater had been injured at the Team USA practice and was headed to Grey-Sloan Memorial.

Without a second thought, I launched myself out of bed and threw on the first clothes that I could find. With Cristina and Maggie's joint promise that she would care for my children, I headed to the hospital.

What I didn't expect was to find her outside of the entrance, without even needing to attempt to look for her.

She looked strung out and frustrated, with her arms extended, catching the heavy rain on her fingertips and face. Ordinarily, I might have laughed at how funny she looked as she did this, but my nerves got the best of me. _Now or never,_ my inner monologue coached, as I recognized the man standing next to her as her coach from what I'd seen of the Olympic news coverage.

"Excuse me," I said, hoping to break her rain-induced trance. "Are you Cas Espinoza?" I found it curious that she seemed to go by Cas now. I wondered if she hated the name Cassandra, or just wanted to seem edgy.

She inhaled sharply, lowering her arms to her sides in an almost defiant way. _Definitely edgy,_ I decided, before idly wondering if her response was due to the wall of reporters that I could see in the distance, camped out in the lobby, and just beginning to head outside.

In order to make up for Cas's perceived impoliteness, Grady Cross, Cas's coach introduced himself to me. I reciprocated, but this was not why I had approached the pair. The last sixteen years had been building up to this moment, and I tried to not become crushed under the weight of this realization.

"Cas, I have reason to believe that I am your biological mother," I revealed in a steady voice.

Cas's eyes widened, and her jaw dropped before her entire body dropped to the ground.

For my career, I'd been trained to expect the unexpected. But for some reason, the possibility of my biological daughter fainting upon meeting me was something I could not plan for, or even fathom.

After disclosing to a very shocked Grady that I work as a surgeon in this hospital, I helped him to safely lift a now groggy Cas into his arms. As I stared at the wall of reporters blocking the hospital's main entrance, I muttered an expletive under my breath. There was no way that we could get through without Cas's face being plastered all over every news channel. From the looks of her interview skills (or lack thereof) I assumed that she would not want that.

In desperation, I called Alex.

"What's up?" He asked, in his usual gruff tone. He sounded busy, but then again, he always _sounded_ busy. And I would do the same for him.

"Alex... " I said slowly, "I need your help."

As it turned out, Alex was a lifesaver. He had been skeptical about helping at first, given that I provided him with virtually no explanation of what was going on. But, eventually, he trusted me, and set up a makeshift hospital bed and IV in the supply closet nearest to the hidden side entrance through which Grady, Cas and I had entered.

Cas moaned as Grady sat Cas on the reclining waiting room chair that was serving as a makeshift bed. "I'm fine, I swear," She said in garbled speech as I prepared to stick the IV needle into her arm. "No IV, please," She protested, "I _hate_ them,"

I was at an impasse. This was the part of the patient interaction where I'd explain the benefits and imply that they basically didn't have a choice if they wanted to be healthy. But this was not my patient. This was my biological daughter, arguing against a medical device administered in a supply closet. She had a point.

"I thought some fluids might help you to bounce back," I clarified gently, in a way that I definitely would _not_ address a patient, but rather, in a way that I would have explained it if it had been one of my children. "You fainted," I reminded her.

She sighed and extended her arm, a surprising surrender. With the IV in place, she shifted in her seat. "So, you're a surgeon here?" She asked innocently, her anxiety seeping through her pores.

I nodded. "I've been a surgeon at this hospital since before…" I suddenly grew apprehensive at the thought of discussing her birth with her so soon after we'd met. "Since before you were born," I completed my sentence.

"My parents told me that," She explained, "Well… y-you know, my adopted parents, I guess." She stared down at her feet, overcome by the awkwardness of the situation.

The door burst open, revealing Alex, who promptly and quickly closed the door after entering. As Cas and Alex locked eyes, they seemed to both take on an identical look of surprise and bewilderment.

"Okay, Mer. You had me hide my patient in a closet" Alex said, finally having enough. "What's going on?"

His _patient?_

In the whirlwind of meeting my daughter, and dealing with the consequences of her fainting as a response to meeting me, I'd forgotten that she had come to the hospital for a reason.

"I think Cas might want to know the same thing," Grady spoke up, where Cas could not. Her jaw was dropped as she observed my interaction with Alex.

"You know each other?" She blurted out, and covered her mouth as a reflex.

 _Might as well get it over with_ , I thought to myself.

I took a deep breath. "Alex, during our first year of residency, I had a child. Derek's child. We didn't believe that we could raise her at the time, so we had to give her up," I turned to the erroneously talented teenager who was hooked up to an IV and staring at us with her eyes narrowed and indicated her to my best friend. "Alex, this is Cas. She is my biological daughter."

"You have got to be kidding me," He exclaimed under his breath. "All these years, and you never told me?" He was angry now. "I could have _helped_ you, Mer."

"It wasn't that easy, Alex," I assured him to no avail. He was seething.

"Excuse me," Cas said quietly, "I have no idea what's going on here," She was clearly uncomfortable.

I instructed Alex and Grady to grab some fold out chairs from the corner, and we all took a seat. "Let me start from the beginning," I said, when we were all settled down. And I told them the story of my pregnancy, and everything that came after.


End file.
